


Music Shall Caress You

by LesMisgayrables



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: M/M, Phantom of the Opera - Freeform, actor!courfeyrac, based on a prompt, courf as vicomte raoul de chagny, extremely fucking short, more like musicals enthusiast!combeferre, theatre enthusiast!combeferre, written at 2 AM literally
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-18
Updated: 2013-09-18
Packaged: 2017-12-26 23:01:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/971308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LesMisgayrables/pseuds/LesMisgayrables
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: "AU where Courfeyrac is an actor and Combeferre sees him at one of his shows and at first he’s charmed by this man’s performance and resolves to see him in his next play, but then as he’s leaving he sees how Courfeyrac treats the people at the stage door, refusing to leave until he’s taken pictures with every person and laughing and telling jokes and being really sweet to everyone and Combeferre just falls in love [flails helplessly]"</p><p>So this fills up until 'really sweet to everyone'.<br/>In which Courfeyrac is a West End actor currently playing Vicomte Raoul de Chagny and Combeferre is a musical theatre aficionado.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Music Shall Caress You

**Author's Note:**

> Based on this prompt:  
> feministcosette.tumblr.com/post/59986037796/raouldeshagme-remember-how-combeferre-being-a
> 
> Written at 2:00AM, posting at 3:00AM, so it's obviously not betaed. It's kind of really badly written, but I'm posting it anyways.
> 
> Title comes from Music Of The Night, from Phantom. Did you expect any different?

Combeferre fingered his playbill distractedly, walking to his seat on the Mezzanine Front level of Her Majesty’s Theatre. He sat down, relaxed and looked around, knowing the show wouldn’t start just now. The temperature was perfectly controlled, as always; the seat was comfortable, and the audience’s chatter was as calming as ever.

It was the first time in almost a year that he would see Phantom of The Opera with the actual cast, and not on Understudy Day – he liked going on those days: the understudies usually gave a great show and made sure they poured their very best into their performances. Plus, he liked to show his support to blooming talents. This time, however, was the first performance by a new Christine, and since he’d heard nothing but brilliant reviews about her run on Broadway, he’d decided to see her on her first day on West End.

His playbill was dog-eared by the time the prologue started. The lights dimmed, the audience hushed itself, and the actors walked in silently. The scene flew by, Raoul sang his short song, and soon the orchestra started playing the Overture. To Combeferre, musical theatre was his one and only addiction, and listening to the Overtures live were his fixes; they filled him.

 

The clearly American Christine sang and moved around the stage during _Think Of Me_ admittedly well. He hadn’t heard much and he already liked her. As always, when Raoul’s part started, he looked to Box 5 and was, well, greeted by a pleasant sight. He also sang beautifully: rich and deep – a surprising feat coming from so young and innocent a face. His acting also had… something; like he was performing a Shakespeare romance and not Andrew Lloyd Webber, with an awed expression while looking at Christine and an impressively believable laugh of delight.

He felt slightly guilty when he started leafing through his playbill halfway through _Angel of Music_. _Courfeyrac_ , he thought approvingly, looking back up again at the sound of the managers and Raoul entering the stage again. He smiled despite himself at the romanticised acting. Then Raoul left and the Phantom’s voice resonated within the theatre, chilling him again. He focused on the story and music again, and not on the individual attributes of certain members of the cast.

 

As soon as the lights turned back on for the intermission he started processing the actual performance. The Christine was indeed good, although he thought that maybe she was seen as ‘brilliant’ because of her acting, which was top notch. It showed when an actor had developed every necessary facet of a performer – acting, singing, emotion, infliction, dance, and presence… much like the Raoul, actually. The actor was obviously young; one of those freshly-graduated Theatre majors who immediately took over West End. His acting was constant; he had studied his character deeply, his face was extremely expressive, and his voice resonated easily in the room.

In his opinion, Vicomte Raoul de Chagny was a very underrated character in the realm of musicals, and he considered that was due to miscasting. They mostly cast men with a good, soothing voice, and while that wasn’t exactly wrong, it certainly gave them a clear disadvantage against roles as powerful as the Phantom, Christine and Carlotta. It was his belief that if they cast someone whose voice could compete with the Phantom’s, someone whose voice could carry and sink deep into your bones like the Phantom’s, people would pay much more attention to him. Well, this Courfeyrac guy fit all the requirements. His voice was thick, loud, rich, powerful and expressive, but his acting wasn’t at all forced; it was simply natural. His voice wasn’t lost during _Prima Donna_ , like it usually was, and his superb acting made it impossible to ignore him. _All I Ask of You_ was emotionally charged and enthused in a way different than what he’d seen before. _What a talent!_

The lights dimmed again and Combeferre focused eagerly on the stage.

 

 

Combeferre always gave a standing ovation at the end of the reverence, as was law, but this time he felt it imperative, necessary, and unthinkable not to express as much appreciation and astonishment as he could. This performance of _The Final Lair_ was easily, _easily_ the best one he’d seen. He couldn’t stop screaming in his head; it was utter, raw perfection. The Phantom and Raoul’s voices, both impressively powerful in their own very different and distinct way, Christine’s incredible acting, the fury in her voice. The gentleness and tenderness of the lovely reprise of _All I Ask of You_ …

He clapped some more and whooped loudly, something he could say he hadn’t done many times before.

 

Combeferre wasn’t in any hurry as he walked out of the theatre. He was already looking ahead at his schedule, wondering when he could come to see this same cast again. He definitely needed to see at least this Raoul and this Phantom together, since their voices fused and contrasted beautifully. He didn’t mind eating quesadillas and instant noodles for the next three months if it meant he could see this cast at least another two more times.

He heard screaming to his left, so, naturally, he turned. There was an actor – no, it was _Raoul_ – he checked his playbill again hurriedly: Courfeyrac, right. Courfeyrac was grinning and, _oh_ , that wasn’t acting. The attractive smile was warm and elated. For a second Combeferre thought about turning around and rolling his eyes, but then he saw that, no, the man wasn’t being an arse, or an arrogant prick, but pretty much the opposite. Something inside him melted. _Was the man perfect?_ Did he have any fault at all?

The same something that melted in him made him turn the rest of his body to the sight and start walking that way. They were mostly young girls surrounding Courfeyrac at a respectful distance. The actor seemed delighted, but not for the attention, but for all the happiness surrounding him. Combeferre felt that melted something shift. He walked closer and got nearer to the actor, navigating within the group of fans with ease. What was he even going to do once he got close enough? This had been a stupid idea.

Courfeyrac’s glance passed him briefly before comically widening his eyes, losing his beaming smile, and looking back at him. An inviting grin spread very slowly across his face, like melting butter. Combeferre was left a little bit speechless.

“Hello,” the actor spoke with a melodious, thick voice. Combeferre’s throat closed up, so he consciously swallowed before giving him a friendly smile.

“You were amazing. I think you should know you’re the best Raoul I’ve seen yet.”

“Oh, and you’ve seen many, have you?” Courfeyrac raised an eyebrow jokingly.

“As a matter of fact, I have. At least ten.” Courfeyrac looked at him with an astonished expression for a second before schooling his face and settling on the same inviting grin from before. He continued talking with the other fans, taking the occasional photo and signing playbills as if it were no bother at all, and all with a genuine smile.

Combeferre was studiously looking at the man’s curls, and his perfectly shaved jaw, and his admittedly beautiful beam. He didn’t realise he was staring until the actor actually looked at him again and exchanged his grin for a smirk.

“Cat got your tongue?”

Combeferre didn’t even blush, but waited a second before replying. “ _Wandering Child_ was perfect. I’ve never heard… and your voice…”

“Thank you,” laughed Courfeyrac. “Your voice is not bad, either,” he told the taller man with a flirtatious smile before turning to the other side and conversing with a few of the last remaining fans for a minute.

“How old are you?” Combeferre asked on an impulse as the man turned back to him. Apparently, his impulse had made Courfeyrac very, very happy.

“Twenty-four.”

“Oh, thank god,” Combeferre breathed out. And then made the maths. “That’s impressive. You must’ve graduated less than a year ago, and you’re already playing Raoul? Impressive.”

“Yeah, very much. Wanna go someplace to talk about it?”

Combeferre let himself smile widely at the actor before reaching out his hand. “Combeferre.”

“Pleased to meet you, Combeferre. I’m Courfeyrac; friends call me Fiyero, but you can call me Courf,” he replied, shaking the other’s hand with a mischievous grin.

**Author's Note:**

> Ta-da!!! Hope you liked it, and if you didn't... I understand.


End file.
